


Breathe for Me

by Olivier_Mira



Category: Avengers, Captain America, Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:39:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olivier_Mira/pseuds/Olivier_Mira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vignette based on the amazing series <i>Will of Iron, Heart of Glass</i> by <i>sororexitium</i>. Takes place toward the end of <i>You Can Always Go Home</i>.  Tony is about to put on his new Iron Man suit, which should be a happy occasion, but his time in captivity has left scars that are not easily healed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe for Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sororexitium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sororexitium/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You Can Always Go Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/401430) by [sororexitium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sororexitium/pseuds/sororexitium). 



 

For some reason, Tony was inexplicably nervous.  Really, this should be exciting, thrilling, even. He’d been working on the new suit for some time, and it was ready for a formal test run.  The individual parts had each been on separate trials, and each had been tweaked until they worked precisely as he wanted them to.  JARVIS had been seamlessly integrated into the suit to run the Heads Up Display as well as a number of safety features, which was a stroke of brilliance if Tony does say so himself.

Everything was ready to go, in fact, it really had been ready to go for some time now. Yet Tony kept finding new pieces to fine-tune or adjust every time he thought he was finished, for some reason putting off actually, you know, _putting on the suit_.  He had been telling himself that this was just his perfectionism kicking in, but now that he was standing here, in the dock, waiting to give JARVIS the order to assemble the suit… trepidation was creeping down his spine like a snake, and he didn’t like that feeling. Not at all.  Not even a little bit.

“Aww, fuck it,” Tony huffed, sick of this kind of crap running his life.  “JARVIS? Let’s do this.”

“Right away, Sir.”

 As soon as the pieces of metal came flying at him, he knew immediately that he’d made a serious error.  He flinched and automatically dropped into a crouch, causing the parts to slam into him rather than mold themselves to his arms and legs. 

“ _Shit!_ JARVIS, stop, _STOP!_ ”

“I have stopped, Sir.”

Tony was having trouble breathing; he could feel the arc reactor buzzing loudly in his chest.  _Fuck. I hate this. I fucking so hate this shit!_ Images flashed through his mind unbidden: he was back in _that place,_ the little white cell, the little white hellhole, with Stane, that fucking rat bastard, kicking him in the ribs again and again, while he lay there helplessly paralyzed, and why was it _always_ fucking Stane, why couldn’t he just g _et the fuck out of my head you fucking sick son of a bitch…!_

His shrink - whom he blamed Nick Fury for and fucking Steve for _making_ him go even though he didn’t _want_ to and it was fucking useless _anyway_ – he had names for all this shit, like PTSD and panic attacks and whatever the fuck else.  There was some special crap he was supposed to do when this happened, like breathe and think happy thoughts and do this ridiculous tapping thing and all this other horseshit that Tony couldn’t _stand._

Why should he have to do pedestrian nonsense like that, created for people who were so fucked up they couldn’t even leave the house?  Pathetic, weak people?  Not him, not _Tony Stark._  Fuck that. Fuck _all_ _of it._ He would get through this like he’d gotten through everything in his life: by being smarter, faster, and not giving a shit about what anyone else has to say. 

Shakily, he hauled himself back to a standing position.  “Okay, JARVIS, we are going to need to skip the snazzy instant suit-up sequence and slow this procedure down a bit. Let’s go one at a time, shall we?”  He replaced the pieces, then slowly stuck out his right arm, then his left, followed by his feet, one after the other.  The rest of the suit snapped itself into place gently, one piece at a time, and things seemed to be okay this go round.  As much as he hated it, he supposed he was just going to have to learn to take things step by step.

Tony was about to breathe a sigh of relief, as they were almost done, when JARVIS put his helmet face plate on and suddenly, he couldn’t breathe at all.  _What the fuck is this?_  He stumbled forward in the suit, his arms flailing, coming down hard on the ground on his hands and knees.  It hit him like Stane ripping his arc reactor from his chest: _you’re fucking claustrophobic, you dumbass, and you thought you were going to be able to squeeze yourself into a metal suit without giving yourself a panic attack? Think again!_

Ripping off the face plate, he started punching the cement floor over and over again: _Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!_ He was completely destroying the delicate fingers on the suit that he had spent so many hours working on, but he didn’t give a shit right now.  All he cared about was hitting something, like Stane’s ugly fucking face, _you fucking asshole, how dare you, how_ fucking _dare you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!!_

All of a sudden a wall appeared in front of his fists, a red, white and blue wall, and no matter how hard he punched it, nothing happened to it.  From somewhere he heard someone calling to him, someone he really should be paying attention to, but he couldn’t focus, with the blood rushing in his ears, and Stane in front of his face, so he just kept slamming and slamming that stupid fucking wall, with the star on it, the star that should remind him of someone, star, star, _Steve…_

_“Tony! Tony, you’re going to hurt yourself! Please stop! JARVIS, can you make him_ stop? _”_

_“Sir, Captain Rogers is requesting that I force your suit to desist.  Might I point out that you have injured your right hand and that if you continue, you will do more damage, Sir?”_

Tony wasn’t sure what was happening, but Steve sounded really upset, and even JARVIS sounded upset. Pain was also registering; his right arm was suddenly throbbing, and his face was stinging. He pulled back, confused, not sure where he was.  The fact that he couldn’t be sure whether he was out of _that place_ or not suddenly terrified him, and he skittered back away from the red, white and blue wall with the star.

“Tony. Tony, can you hear me?”  _Steve, that was Steve.  It’s okay to talk to Steve. Talking. We can do that.  Lips move, use words, speak._

“Y-yes.”  His voice was harsh from screaming, apparently.  Terrific.

“That’s great, Tony, that’s really great.  I’m really glad you can hear me.”

Tony was really glad that he could hear Steve, too.  Steve’s voice had been his lifeline, had literally brought him back from the dead.  Assuming he wasn’t dead, which he still wasn’t too sure about. 

“Tony, it’s Steve.”  Footsteps.  Someone (Steve?) was moving closer to him.  Tony instinctively jerked further away, under a table.

“Okay, Tony, I’m just going to stay right here, okay?  Right here across the room.  You can stay right there.  I’m not going to hurt you.”

Steve wouldn’t hurt him, Tony knew that.  But he had still backed away.  He just couldn’t be sure…

“Tony, I’m… I’m wondering, would you like to play a game with me?”

_What the fuck…?_   Why would Steve ask him that?  Then he remembered: Anthony used to play games with Steve.  Maybe... maybe that was still happening?

Tony cleared his dry throat.  “Um… ok.”

“Great!  That’s great, Tony.  Here’s how this game goes.  Tell me five things you can see.”

Five things… _What the hell kind of game is this?_   Oh well, Tony figured he’d just humor Steve.  Weird game, though.

“I see…” What did he see?  He looked up.  “I can see the bottom of the table.  There are some rivets, some screws, and maybe a couple of burn marks, probably from that time I accidentally set Dum-E on fire.”  That had sucked, Tony remembered.  Not good, setting your fire extinguisher on fire.

“Good! That’s really good!  Table, rivets, screws, burn marks… what else do you see?”

“Um…” Tony held up his hand.  _Damn, I really did a number on this thing, didn’t I?_   “I see my craptastically armored right hand.”  Steve probably doesn’t know the word _craptastic_ , but that was okay.

“Wonderful!  Table, rivets, screws, burn marks, and your right hand. That’s really swell!”

Sometimes Tony wondered if Steve was actually just a really enthusiastic gym teacher in the body of a super soldier.  He didn’t know what gym teachers were like in the 1940's, but he bet they said “swell!”  Still, there was something Steve was trying to do, and if Tony’s brain would just work properly for five minutes, he could figure out what it was.

“Now the next part of this game is… tell me five things you can smell.”

“Um… what?” _Okay, this was definitely getting weird._

“Five things you can smell.  I know you can do it, Tony!”

“I can smell…” Tony sniffed. “Blood. JARVIS, is my face bleeding?”

“Yes, Sir, you have a small cut above your right eye. It appears to be minor, Sir.”

“Tony!” Steve said hurriedly, interrupting JARVIS.  “Tony, I know you like talking to JARVIS, but will you do me a favor? Will you focus on my voice right now?  You can talk to JARVIS later as much as you want.  But just focus on me right now, me, Steve, okay?”

“O-okay.”  Steve really was being really weird, but whatever, Tony just went with it.  Kept the panic from rising again.

“Great! Now, let’s see, what else can you smell?”

Tony could smell something, something dusty, maybe, sort of acrid… _Oh no.  Cigar smoke. Stane. Not good.  Very not good._   Nausea rushed over him in waves, choking, he was _choking..._

Somehow Steve’s strong, commanding voice cut through the choking and the ringing in his ears. “Tony! Listen to me.  It’s okay, Tony!  You’re going to be okay.  Just breathe.  Take a deep breath with me, in and out, okay?  _Breathe in… breathe out._   Can you do that?  Just breathe for me.”

Tony breathed, in and out, hitching, coughing, but still breathing.

“Great!  That’s great.  Let’s just move on, all right? Let’s move on to things that you can feel.  Can you tell me five things that you can feel?  Tony? Can you still hear me?”

Steve’s voice seemed a little closer.  “Y-yes,” Tony coughed.  “I hear you.  Steve.” _Just focus on Steve.  Nothing else matters.  Just focus on the sound of his voice.  Like a life preserver floating out to a drowning man.  A red, white and blue fucking life preserver._

“That’s wonderful, Tony, I’m glad.  Now, can you tell me five things you can feel?  It can be anything, anything at all.”

Tony thought.  He reached down and touched his arc reactor, humming in his chest.  Still working, still alive, good, great.  “I-I can feel the arc reactor.”

“That’s excellent, Tony! Really good.  I’m glad you can feel that! Can you tell me what else?”

If he really wanted to feel things, he was going to need his hands.  “JARVIS… gauntlets off.  Careful, this one’s busted to hell.”

“Yes, Sir. I am aware of that, Sir.”

The left gauntlet came off no problem; the right took a little doing, as a piece of metal had bent inward, hence the gash on Tony’s right forearm.  Tony made a mental note to work up a new design for the gauntlets that would avoid such problems in the future.  Meanwhile…

“My arm hurts.”

“Good!” Steve said, then immediately backpedaled.  “Well, not good that it hurts, but good that you can feel it, Tony, I’m glad you can, actually.  That’s two things, and that’s great! Can you give me three more? Three more things you can feel?”

Instinctually, Tony reached up to touch his bleeding forehead. “Ouch. My head.”

“Right, that’s one more thing, good job! Your arm, your head, your arc reactor… You’re doing great, Tony! You’re really good at this game.  Can you name two more things you can feel?”

It occurred to Tony that Steve must think he was a complete idiot.  Why would he be asking him all these stupid things?  Unless… _unless…_ _fuck._ Steve’s military training. PTSD.  Naming random objects in the room helps to counteract flashbacks.  Which meant he was _having_ one.   _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“S-Steve…”

“Yes, Tony?”

“Steve, am I… did I…” _Did I go away again?_   Tony could feel something, all right… and that something was _shame._   Horrible, sickening _, shame_.  It made him want to throw up.

“Tony.”

Steve was close, closer… Tony could reach out and touch him, maybe, or maybe this was all just another dream, another delusion, from _that place_ … _oh please let it not be, oh please God, even though I don’t believe in you, please, PLEASE…_

And then he could feel it.

“I… I feel… I feel your hand in mine.  Steve.”

_“Tony.”_

And suddenly Steve was there, and he was touching him, and he was _real_.  Tony quickly told JARVIS to remove the rest of the suit and Steve held him tightly, which for Steve meant only using a quarter of his strength, and for some reason this made Tony feel so absurdly _safe_.  Tony was clinging to Steve’s ridiculously ugly plaid dress shirt, trying to stop shaking, and Steve was stroking his hair, telling him over and over again, like a chant, _It’s okay, Tony, you’re okay, it’s all right, I’m here, you’re safe, you’re not there, you’re here, you’re going to be okay. I love you. You’re going to be okay._

Tony lay his head on Steve’s chest and felt his powerful heartbeat reverberating through Tony’s entire being.  Sometimes it just amazed Tony how _strong_ Steve was, and it had nothing to do with the super serum.  He just _exuded_ strength, like the sun giving off rays of light.  It was that great strength that had sustained Tony even when Steve was just a voice over the airwaves.  Tony never ceased to marvel at it.  He basked in it now, drinking it in like cool water in the desert.

After a little while, Steve gently pulled back, grasping Tony’s arm.  “Tony, you’re hurt, let me see.” 

“N-no, it’s n-nothing.”  Tony didn’t want to be fussed over.

“It’s not nothing, we should dress these wounds…”

“Steve… I-I’m sorry,” Tony said, letting out a shaky sigh, lifting his head to meet Steve’s worried face.

“Shhh. Don’t.”  Steve put a single finger over Tony’s lips, then moved to gently caress his cheek.

“But Steve, I-”

“Hush.  You would do the same for me.”

“But you don’t –”  … _have it like this._

“You know that I do.”

“But you’ve never-” _…attacked me.  Like I have done to you._

“Tony.  I may hide it better, but it’s not like it couldn’t happen.  For me.  Like this.”

Still, Tony felt awful.  He knew what Steve was saying, that he suffers from this same shit, this horrible, gut-wrenching post-traumatic stress, which even on a good day was absolutely terrifying.  On top of it, Steve’s was _worse_ , because while Tony could wake up and be home, Steve would never, ever be home, in his own time, ever again.  The thought kept _Tony_ up at night sometimes; he couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be for Steve, just to walk upright.  Yet there he was, day after day, tall and strong and upright as ever.  Steve Rogers was a living, breathing miracle to Tony Stark, and not because they found him in the ice, but because he just _kept going._   Tony would have given up – he _had_ given up, but Steve, like his incessant heartbeat, never, ever quit.  By comparison, Tony felt like some kind of slug.  A not-very-nice slug, to boot.

“I’ll… I’ll never be as strong as you.”

“Tony, don’t you say that! That’s just… that’s just applesauce!”

Tony really, really tried not to burst out laughing at Steve’s old fashioned language, knowing that he reverts back to it when he’s upset, but he failed miserably.  “ _Applesauce?_ They actually said that back then? _Really?_ ”

“Tony!  I’m trying to be serious, here…!”  Steve said, but his impossibly blue eyes were laughing.  “In all honesty, Tony, you have incredible strength.  How can you not see that?  I’ve seen what happens to guys who have been through ordeals like what you’ve been through, POWs and such, and they’re… They’re gone, Tony, you look in their eyes and there’s no one home.  They stare forever, they used to call it the two-thousand yard stare…  I’ve seen it, and it’s frightening.  You could be there, Tony, and you’re _not._   You’re _fighting_ it.  That takes _courage_.  That takes _strength_.  There’s no way you could be functional if you weren’t a strong person.  Think about it.  This is _logic_ , Tony.  The thing you’re always going on about.”

Tony was actually still thinking about _applesauce,_ but still, he had to disagree.  “But Steve… I’m not a POW.  I’m not a soldier; I never was.  I’m not all honorable and shit like you.  I was _stupid,_ greedy and stupid.  And careless.  I should have seen what Stane was doing all along.  I should have figured someone would come after me if I had all the keys to the castle.  It’s my own fault that I-”

“Stop _right there,_ Tony Stark.”  Apparently, Tony had said the wrong thing, because suddenly, Steve Rogers disappeared, and in his place, gripping Tony’s shoulders and staring him down like a bird of prey, was none other than Captain America.  _Uh-oh._

“Don’t you _ever_ say to me that _any_ of this was your fault.  Do you hear me?  Don’t you _ever!_   Stane is a horrible, horrible person, an evil person, and he is just gosh darn lucky that I didn’t get my hands on him personally, because I happen to know 22 ways to kill a man with my bare hands, not that I... I mean, that is to say, what I meant is…”  He was breathing hard, and he closed his eyes for a moment, his face flushed, his long eyelashes fluttering.  Tony knew he shouldn’t think this, but right now, in this moment, Captain America, closing his eyes and imagining murdering Stane with his bare hands on Tony’s behalf, was the sexiest thing he had ever seen in his entire life, hands down, no contest. No. fucking. contest.

Taking a deep breath, Steve opened his eyes and continued.  “What I meant to say is, _it wasn’t your fault._  And it doesn’t matter, all that about not being a soldier.  The trauma is the same.  In fact, a lot of POWs had it easier than you, because soldiers are prepared to deal with that possibility, and they are trained to withstand…”  Tony winced.   _Don’t… don’t go there…_

Steve stopped, sensing his distress, and pulled Tony in close, breathing into his hair.  “Tony,” he whispered, “It’s okay… _I know_.”

Something _cracked_ inside Tony at that moment, and he was suddenly clinging to Steve for dear life, waves of relief washing over him.  He hadn’t told Steve, or Rhodey, or anyone about _that_ , about what had happened to him in _that place,_ day in and day out.  It was just too horrible, too painful, too _shameful._   But somehow Steve knew anyway, he just _knew_ , and the fact that _someone else knew_ , and he wasn’t alone in this anymore… It felt like a _deliverance._   Steve didn’t just rescue Tony once; he rescued him _daily._   What had Tony ever done to deserve someone like this?

“S-Steve…”  Tony choked out his name.

“Tony, it’s okay.  I’ve got you.  You’re safe now.”  Steve was stroking the back of Tony’s neck and the base of his skull with a hand that was bigger than Tony’s entire head, which was somehow incredibly comforting.

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t tell you…”

“ _Tony_.  We sleep in the same bed.  Did you think I wouldn’t notice?  When you came to me covered in a latticework of bruises, old and new?  How you flinch if I touch you too quickly?  Did you think I didn’t see the panic in your eyes whenever I got too close to your arc reactor?  Tony, you wake up in the night _screaming._ Do you really think I don’t… that I don’t know what that means?”  His voice broke, and he hastily wiped the moisture from his eyes.

“Steve… I’m sorry.”

“ _Don’t. apologize.”_

Tony raised his head, and what he saw in Steve’s face nearly broke his already-fractured heart.  Steve looked _devastated._  His misty blue eyes were dark pools of anguish, veritable oceans of sadness.  Yet there was something else there, something Tony recognized… He’d seen it on Steve’s face before, just never so _pronounced_ … It was that face he gets when the plan goes awry and he’s not able to save someone, when he has to leave someone behind and… And he blames himself.  It was a look of _remorse._

“Steve, you… tell me you don’t… you don’t blame yourself.”

“I… I can’t help it, Tony.”

“Are you s _erious?_   Steve… you _saved_ me.  Everyone had given up on me, even _me_ , but you refused to.  You stubbornly flat out _insisted_ on saving me.  I’m alive and breathing because of one person, and that’s _you_ , Steven Rogers.  What the hell about that equates to you feeling _guilty?_ ”

“ _Because I should have figured it out sooner!_ ” The flood of tears which he had been holding back spilled down his cheeks in his anguish, and his words came out in a rush.  “Gosh darn it, Tony, I’m not as smart as you!  You would have known right away, that you weren’t talking to a computer, that you needed to do something... I should have reported it, right away.  That was my _job,_ as a _soldier_ , to report something like that _immediately_ , and I didn’t do it, _I failed to do my duty…_ And because of that, because of _my_ failure, you suffered for _months_ , and nearly died of the palladium poisoning, and, and Fury was _right_ when he was yelling at me, that I should have reported it, that we could have saved you sooner, but no, I had to take everything into my own hands; I had to play the lone eagle, just like I used to catch hell for back in the day, apparently I never learn -”

“Woah, woah, woah, time out here, okay?  Time out.”  Tony sat up and took Steve’s head in his hands, gently wiping away tears with his thumbs.  “Just… breathe for me.”  Steve closed his eyes, his breath catching as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled.  When he opened his eyes again, he seemed calmer, and Tony continued.

“Are you listening to yourself right now?  Because you stopped making sense about ten sentences ago.  Get this through your head: nobody could have saved me from that hellhole but you.  _No one._   If you had gone to Fury like his little pet dog – and _fuck him_ for saying that to you, fuck him right in his one goddamned good eye for putting this horseshit, this, this _applesauce_ , into your head!  If you had gone and reported it, you know what, Steve, I’d be dead.  And likely Pepper would be dead, and Rhodey and Happy, because that’s what Stane threatened to do if I told anybody I was fucking alive.  The fact that you held on, the fact that you _didn’t_ follow the rules, the fact that you insisted on doing it your way… Are you getting this, Captain Rogers?  _You are my one salvation on this earth._ Not Fury, not the other Avengers, _you.”_

And with that, Tony kissed him, like the world was ending, like there was nothing else in the universe but their lips pressing together, tongues caressing each other, entwining their bodies as if they could literally become one. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, Steve sweeping his hands over every inch of Tony’s skin, and Tony practically purring with delight.

“Tony… oh, Tony…”  Pausing for breath, Steve fixed Tony with a desperate gaze in between kisses.  “Promise me something?”

“Mmmmm?”  Tony didn’t feel particularly capable of speech at the moment, with Steve’s powerful hands rubbing his shoulders.  _God that felt good…_

“That you’ll let me be there for you?”

Tony reached up a hand, lightly stroking Steve’s soft blonde hair.  “You are there for me.  You’re _always_ there for me.”

Yet even as he said it, Tony could see that crease forming in Steve’s forehead, creating the expression he secretly named _little Steve,_ the one that made him look like a kicked puppy.  A very small kicked puppy, which was kind of hilarious, considering how fucking huge he was, but it was also incredibly endearing.

“But I’m not, Tony, I… I- I just… I can’t stand it like this.  I’m constantly worrying about you.  I need to… I need to know that you’re okay.  I know you hate being on a leash and everything, and I don’t want to make you feel like that, but I mean, if JARVIS hadn’t let me know when your vitals went into the red, I…”

“Wait a minute…” Tony sat up.  “JARVIS alerted you?  Without _telling_ me?  JARVIS, are you listening to this?”

“Yes, Sir.”  Tony might be imagining things, but he thought JARVIS just might have sounded _guilty_ for a minute there.

“And since when do you inform Captain Rogers of my status?”

“Since you made Captain Rogers your medical proxy, Sir.  In which document you specified that I should inform Captain Rogers should you become incapacitated, should you become hospitalized, should your temperature, pulse and respiration exceed the following parameters –”

“Ok, okay, fine, that’s enough JARVIS, thank you…” Tony had entirely forgotten about that medical proxy thing, and he swore he was blushing even redder than Steve tends to, and that was really saying something. 

Then he looked at Steve, and realized that couldn’t possibly be true, because Steve honestly blushed redder than a ripe tomato on a hot summer’s day, an expression which he would certainly approve of, if not necessarily agree with.

“Tony,” Steve said his name in a very small voice, clearly embarrassed.

“What?”  Tony winked at him.

“That’s… a medical proxy, isn’t that something people get when they get… a civil partnership?  Like getting… _married?_ ”  Steve blushed even _redder_ , which shouldn’t be possible, but there it was.

“Yep.  Yes it is.  But it’s, you know, always a good idea anyways.  We can talk about it more, later.  Um.  What were we talking about?”

Steve cleared his throat.  “We were talking about you, letting me be there for you, which means not doing things that are potentially triggering for you without telling me.  Like trying to put on a metal suit while conveniently ignoring your claustrophobia.”

“Wait, what?  How did you…”

“Tony.  I may not be as smart as you, but I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck.  I know what claustrophobia is, and I know that you have it _._   We _had_ submarines during WWII, you know, and I’ve known a lot of submariners.  It’s not like you’re the first person who… What?  What’s so funny?”

A giggle fit had seized Tony, and he was trying to stop himself from rolling around on the floor in glee, and failing.  “Sorry!  Just picturing Captain America falling off a _turnip truck._   Did they really have those in the 40’s, or is it just another ridiculous saying that makes no sense?”

“But it’s not from back in the day!  I heard Clint saying it to Bruce!  I thought I was being all, you know, hip and with it, but I guess I’m just all wet.”

“Hmmm, I think I’d like to see you all wet.  Can we skip to that part?” 

_“TONY.”_

“Okay, Okay.  Right.  No more trying out scary stuff all by myself. I get it.  Now let’s get back to the turnip truck, a.k.a. why you should never, ever follow Clint’s lead in anything, ever, _ever._ ”

Steve sighed.  “It’s a good thing I love you, Tony Stark.”

Tony moved in for another kiss. “Yes, yes it really is.”  
  
***

**Three months later**

As he soared higher into the blue sky, with Thor following just behind, Tony couldn’t believe how beautiful it was.  He laughed, as far below, he could see Steve waving his shield in the air, cheering him on. 

He had modified the suit so that it now came with a whole series of anti-claustrophobic features.  A fan blew cool air into his face, and there was a holographic setting on the HUD which gave him the illusion of more space when he needed it.  The helmet also now came in several different parts and was able to be removed very quickly.  Turns out, submariners actually _did_ know quite a lot about claustrophobia, and there have been vast improvements since WWII in that area, for which Tony was exceedingly grateful.  Grudgingly, he also had to admit that his therapist also helped.  Well, a little, anyway. 

There was also a special secret feature that Tony had built into the suit, which he did _not_ tell Steve nor anyone else about… The fact was, Steve used a particular brand of vintage military issue Palmolive soap, and Tony had managed to figure out how to ionize it.  So when Tony said the word, JARVIS would make the inside of the suit _smell just like Steve._   And if he ever found out, Tony was going to literally die of embarrassment, but he wouldn’t find out, because there was no way Steve would ever fit in the suit, and there was no way he could hijack JARVIS, and if JARVIS told Steve, he was going to program him to talk like Hello Kitty from now until _forever._

Laughing to himself, he twisted in the air once more, relishing in the freedom of movement.  _Yeah I can fly._   How did the world sometimes seem so small, when it was really this fucking _huge?_ Even Thor, who was probably the biggest man Tony knew, seemed dwarfed up here, among the clouds.  He wondered briefly if this was what Asgard was like.  Maybe someday he’d find out. 

For now, though, he just wanted to be where Steve was, and that was down on the ground.  He spun around and signaled to Thor that they should begin their descent, as he had promised Steve the first run would only be a short one.  As he raced Thor back down through the clouds, he couldn’t help thinking: _Look out world: I am_ _Iron Man!_

 


End file.
